


fresh as if issued to children on a beach

by Ladybug_21



Category: Big Little Lies (TV)
Genre: Domestic Violence, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 01:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladybug_21/pseuds/Ladybug_21
Summary: In the aftermath of Trivia Night, Renata Klein figures out how to mend fences and build bridges... and how to navigate unexpected feelings for one of her new friends.  (Trigger warnings for traumatic flashbacks to Celeste's relationship with Perry.)





	fresh as if issued to children on a beach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chainofclovers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chainofclovers/gifts).



> This fic was originally written as a Yuletide 2018 request for chainofclovers. Her Dear Yuletide Author letter is reproduced in part below:
> 
> "Renata (aggressive and status-conscious and secretly insecure) and Celeste (kind and perceptive and deceptively strong) are my favorite characters. I definitely want fic about Renata (she's awful! she's great! she's full of hidden depths!), but I'd be thrilled with a story about any and all of the ensemble of characters. I love the way season 1 concludes with the women operating as a pack, and I'd love a fic that explores that pack dynamic and Renata's potential or actualized place within it. Renata hasn't spent much time on female friendship. What does she want or need out of her connection to another woman, or to other women in general?"
> 
> Thank you, chainofclovers, for providing me with such a rich array of _Big Little Lies_ -related prompts to explore! I'm so, so, so glad that you love both Renata and Celeste as much as I do—they are also my favorite characters, and I would have written about both regardless, so I'm doubly delighted that that was what you wanted, in the first place! But your thoughtful request made me also want to explore Renata's developing relationships with the other women in the series, which is why this fic ended up being so much longer than I initially anticipated. Additional thanks for being willing to offer input regarding how to handle Renata's relationship with Gordon in a way that avoided my infidelity squick; Gordon is a jerk in the book, but I actually do like him in the TV series, so I appreciate your giving me leeway to provide a happy ending for everyone. :) And lastly, since I've never written femslash before and am kind of terrified that I've made a mess of everything here, if there's anything that you don't like or would like me to tweak, please just let me know, and I'll be happy to make edits, accordingly!
> 
> Obviously, I do not own any rights to _Big Little Lies_. And the title of this work is taken from _Mrs Dalloway_ — inspired, in no small part, by the fact that Nicole Kidman recently said in an [interview](https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/features/lady-gaga-nicole-kidman-regina-king-rachel-weisz-at-actress-roundtable-1164255) that Virginia Woolf is a character that she's played with whom she would want to have dinner, which I thought was pretty awesome. (Actually, I feel like _The Hours_ ended up unexpectedly influencing aspects of this fic, so the title's source material feels doubly appropriate.)

Renata Klein was not good at waiting.

It wasn't that she demanded that things be punctual on pure principle.  Renata just didn't have the sort of personality that dealt well with suspense.  She liked  _action_ , loved the rush and hustle of buying and selling and merging companies, of dashing from meeting to conference call to event, of always trying to advance a little further or gain a little more.  Action made her feel in control of things; or, at the very least, it distracted her enough that she didn't have time to worry.

Sitting alone at a table at Paluca Trattoria, on the other hand, only gave Renata time to enumerate every single instance in which she had acted in a mortifyingly stupid manner towards Jane Chapman over the past few months.

It was incredible, frankly, that Jane still even wanted to be within the same fifty-foot radius of Renata, let alone talk to her in a tentative manner that made Renata hope that, one day, they might actually be real friends.  And yet here Renata was, gazing out over the sailboats in the harbor in between compulsively checking her phone, and praying that this wasn't going to be the most awkward experience of her life.

"Hey," said Jane's voice from just behind her shoulder, and Renata stifled the impulse to jump in surprise.

"Glad you made it," she replied.  She stood and, not quite knowing what else to do, offered Jane a hand that the younger woman shook, suppressing a smile.

"I've never been here before," Jane said, glancing around the restaurant as she took the seat opposite from Renata.

"To the Wharf?  Or here specifically?" Renata asked.

"Here specifically," Jane clarified.  "Any recommendations?"

"I've liked everything I've tried on their menu," Renata shrugged.  "Gordon and I used to come here a lot.  It's relatively quiet for the Wharf, and it's pretty reasonably priced."

Jane's eyebrows raised very slightly as she perused her menu, and Renata mentally kicked herself twice—once for mentioning the price of the restaurant, given the glaring disparity between her income and Jane's, and again for bringing up Gordon.

"Shit," she muttered to herself.  "Jane, once again, I am really, really sorry about my husband's idiotic behavior towards you..."

"It's okay," Jane said evenly, putting down her menu and looking Renata plain in the face.  "Like I said, I totally understand.  The only time he'd ever met me, he'd watched me hit you in the eye.  I think it says something positive about him, that he felt protective enough of you to, um, threaten me."

Renata stared at Jane.

"You really are an unbelievably nice person; you know that, right?"

"Well, I did also get a date to Trivia Night out of the whole experience, so it all worked out in my favor," Jane added, grinning.

"You got a...?"  Renata racked her brain for a moment, trying to remember the parts of that evening that didn't involve wailing sirens and spinning blue-and-red police lights.

"Tom." Jane gestured over her shoulder.  "He works at Blue Blues, just down the Wharf.  He, uh, actually threw Gordon out of the café when he said he'd get a restraining order on me if I went near you.  And that's when Tom asked me out.  So, see?"

Renata wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh at how Hollywood that all sounded, or crawl under the table over the fact that her husband had literally gotten himself thrown out of a coffee shop while trying his best to chivalrously defend her.

"Anyway, we should probably actually go over there after this, and I'll explain to Tom that Gordon is welcome back inside the café, now that we're okay," Jane added.

"I'm not sure that he deserves it, but thank you."

The waiter came to take their orders, and Renata took a moment to admire the view and mull over what Jane had just said.  They were okay.  Which was good.  Which was great, in fact.  Two months ago, she would have told anyone who tried to claim that she and Jane Chapman would ever be "okay" with each other to go have their head checked.

Jane, who was also gazing out over the harbor, suddenly grinned.

"What?"

"Just saw an otter," Jane said.  "He dove under the waves, but he 'otter' come back up sometime soon, right?"

Renata smiled, and Jane laughed at her own terrible pun.  Of course Renata  _knew_  that Jane was barely older than a college student, but she had never bothered to take into consideration the fact that Jane was quite literally young enough to be her own daughter.  It was unbelievable how much the poor girl had been through at this young age, and Renata squirmed to think of how much of that unhappiness she herself had caused.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked Jane.  "Given... given everything that's happened."

Jane took an unnecessarily long sip of water, then put her glass down.

"Yeah," she said.  "Yeah, I think everything's fine.  Ziggy's doing great, other than the fact that he misses school and his friends and wants this break to be over already.  I'm doing great, other than the fact that it's hard to get work done while your kid is running around the house pretending to be an X-wing pilot."

Renata smiled appreciatively, then stared out over the harbor for a long moment, trying to find a way to apologize more profoundly than she had to date.

"Don't beat yourself up, Renata," Jane said, as if reading her mind.  "I probably would have done the same thing, you know."

"Would you, though?"  Renata furrowed her brow.  "You're a remarkably level-headed person, Jane.  Tough, but not the type to try to intimidate someone younger and less-established than you are.  I look back at how I acted over these past few months, and I just  _cringe_  at how I behaved towards you."

"I mean, I'm not saying that it was  _fun_ ," Jane clarified with a small laugh, "but like I told you, I think I understood you, on some weird level.  We just want them to be as happy as possible, and if something gets in the way of that, then we can justify just about anything to make them happy again."

Renata was silent for a moment, her gaze still fixed out over the water.

"You know," she said finally, "a few years ago, I was at some seminar where the speaker asked us all to write down the one big key to our success, the one that we would name if someone shook us awake in the middle of the night and demanded to know.  And then we all had to read aloud what we'd written down.  Most of the men in the room gave the sorts of answers that you would expect from a successful CEO: confidence, grit, creativity, vision, perhaps just a touch of insanity.  All of which I suppose would have fit the bill for me, too."

Jane smiled.

"So, what was yours?"

"Self-reliance."  Renata sighed.  "You know, if you're a man, then it's so easy to fall into the East Coast old boys' club.  You put on your well-cut suit and your cufflinks, and stand around at enough parties laughing at enough of the right jokes, and someone with a lot of power and prestige is eventually going to offer to guide you around the secret networks of Wall Street.  Or, if you live out here, you put on your black turtleneck and your faded jeans, and you go convince some venture capitalist that your brilliant idea is worth funding.  Me?  No one ever gave me any of the secrets to making a splash on Wall Street, and god only knows how quickly I'd have been laughed out of the room, if I'd ever turned up to an interview in jeans.  So I stopped listening to anyone who told me that I couldn't make it in a man's business world, and I figured out how to do things my own way, on my own terms."

It was true.  Tired of being rejected from a standard of masculinity that she would never be able to mimic, Renata began wearing dresses on the job, to make sure that everyone knew that she wasn't afraid of being a woman in a man's industry.  At the same time, she adopted just the right degree of aggressiveness to force her male colleagues to take her seriously.  She used a combination of charm and persistence and occasional coercion to meet and forge relationships with the right people, and she maintained their respect by being a damn hard worker and a damn good negotiator.  She learned to be her own best advocate, and her own best defender.  Renata always fought her own fights, never asking for help because, well, you just couldn't count on people to stick with you when you needed them there.  But, because she was good at picking her battles wisely, she still won most of them unassisted.

"My point is," she continued to Jane, "I was used to taking care of myself in my professional life.  I was used to being able to solve my own problems.  And so it just about killed me when I had to send my baby off to school, where I couldn't be there to protect her—and on the very first day, someone hurt her.  I honestly felt like I had failed as a mother, failed just about as completely as is possible.  It made me really lose my head.  And I took it out on you, without even giving you the benefit of the doubt.  I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Renata," Jane said firmly.  "It's in the past.  And oh my god, I'd be a little worried if a parent  _didn't_  stand up for their kid like you did for Amabella."

"I guess."  Renata sighed again.  "It's kind of scary, the fact that I would honestly do anything for her.  Well, you know how it is."

Jane nodded.  Secretly, Renata was fairly certain that no parent in the world had ever loved their child as much as she loved Amabella.  But, on an objective level, she knew that this might not be true, that other parents might feel towards their children the same fierce, helpless, irrational devotion that her daughter inspired in her.  Gordon had always joked that Renata always needed a mission to fulfill, and from the moment the nurses put her new baby into Renata's arms, she knew that her mission would be to do everything in her power to make life perfect for Amabella.

"The thing is, I feel like I owe it to her," Renata continued.  "Do you ever sit back and feel amazed that your child loves you for exactly who you are?  I spend so much of my time worrying about how I'm coming across with the adults in my life—businesspeople and Otter Bay parents alike.  Even with Gordon, I worry that I'm acting too ambitious, working too long hours, not being a good enough wife to him.  But Amabella just loves me.  Unconditionally.  She doesn't care if I don't meet certain expectations or fit certain stereotypes.  She just quietly encourages me to be my gentlest, kindest, silliest self.  She makes me a much better person than I would be otherwise.  And I hate that I somehow became a worse person than I ever wanted to be, because I was so scared for her, when normally she brings out the best that I have to offer."

Renata stopped mid-thought, suddenly horribly self-conscious about everything that she had just said.  But Jane simply nodded.

"I know," she reassured Renata.  "I get it."

Renata furiously willed herself not to burst into tears.

"Well, given that I've been such a grade-A asshole to you, is there anything at all that I can do to give you a hand now?" she asked instead.  "You know, recommend babysitters, invite Ziggy over for a sleepover sometime if you and Tom need a date night...?"

"That would be fantastic, actually."  Jane smiled.  "You really are a good person, Renata.  Thank you."

The two chatted about this and that, and Renata was surprised at how quickly the time flew by.  After lunch—which Renata insisted on buying, as part of her apology—Jane was as good as her word.  She dragged Renata down Fisherman's Wharf to Blue Blues, where a bemused Tom scratched his head and raised an eyebrow at Renata, and then treated her to a mocha on the house as proof that he accepted her apology on Gordon's behalf.  Perhaps it shouldn't have been surprising to see Jane's eyes light up whenever Tom smiled at her, but it still was a very welcome contrast to the self-conscious glare to which Renata had become accustomed.  Jane clearly was smitten, and god knew the poor girl deserved some genuine romance, after everything she'd been through.

"He's a keeper," Renata told Jane as they headed back down the Wharf towards their cars, slurping free samples of clam chowder from little plastic cups.  In the distance, by the sailboats moored in the harbor, blubbery seals barked from rocks smoothed by the waves.

"He sure is," Jane agreed happily.  "Renata, I'm so glad that this worked out."

"Lunch, you mean?"

"Yeah."  Jane shrugged.  "Everything.  I mean, parts of life are always going to be shit, right?  But at least some things turn out okay in the end; and the rest is pretty much survivable with friends."

 _Survivable with friends_.  Jane Chapman considered her a friend.  Renata was oddly touched by that.

"I'm glad that this worked out, too."  She smiled at Jane.  "I know you've got Madeline looking out for you in most of the ways that count, but seriously, call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay."  Jane tilted her head thoughtfully at Renata.  "Have you talked to any of the others at all, since... well, you know?"

Renata shook her head.

"You should."

"They really wouldn't think it was intrusive if I just... gave them a call?"  Renata bit her lip, somewhat nervous at the very thought.

Jane laughed a bit to herself.

"I promise you, they wouldn't.  Believe it or not, you and Madeline have a lot in common, which I think explains a lot about how these past months have gone.  Bonnie loves pretty much everyone, unless you give her a really good reason not to, which you haven't.  And, well, Celeste is Celeste.  If I can give you a call if I need anything, then you most certainly can give them a call, for the same reason."

Renata had reached her car, so she turned to Jane.

"Well, take care, then," she said, and to her surprise, Jane gave her a hug.

"See you soon, Renata.  I'm serious, get in touch with the rest of them sometime.  Even Madeline."

Renata smiled to herself as she tried to imagine what exactly she would  _say_  if, out of the blue, she just rang Madeline Martha Mackenzie.  She really did admire Madeline in many ways, and she was glad that some of the previous ice in their relationship had obviously thawed, even if a whole river of uncertainty still ran between them.  Hopefully, they would one day be genuine friends, even if not necessarily confidantes.  Bonnie, she worried about less; Jane was right, that Bonnie was the type to think that everyone had a beautiful spirit, unless proven otherwise.

And as for Celeste...

What could one really say about Celeste?  She was the woman who had it all. Looks, wealth, glamor, two beautiful kids, an unjust allotment of brains to boot, and an almost ethereal poise.  Renata did not doubt her own considerable privileges and talents, but Celeste was one of the few people on earth around whom Renata had always felt distinctly nervous.  It wasn't that she thought that Celeste disliked her, but for whatever reason, she had always  _so_  wanted Celeste's approval, above and beyond the normal expectation.  Even just thinking about Celeste, Renata was struck by an odd sensation that felt almost like the butterflies that she used to get before first dates.

In a horrible, horrible way, Perry's death made friendship with Celeste seem more possible than it ever had.  Before Trivia Night, Renata (like everyone else) had assumed that Celeste and Perry were inseparable, and that getting to know Celeste would also have entailed getting to know Perry equally well—not objectionable, to be sure, but bound to feel a bit like an extension of the business conferences at which she and Perry occasionally crossed paths.  And, of course, now a somewhat equalizing fact lay between Renata and Celeste.  It was harder to worry that someone would reject your overtures of friendship when you had literally been willing to take a few blows in her defense.

Renata knew that Celeste respected her.  Knew that Celeste very possibly even  _liked_  her.  And so it was really just a matter of Renata's summoning the courage to reach out to Celeste, like she had to Jane.  Like she would to Bonnie.  Like she might (in the marginally foreseeable future) to Madeline.

 _One step at a time, Renata_ , she told herself with a small sigh, as her car sped along the winding California coastline.

* * *

Celeste did not realize until after Perry's death how much of her life had really belonged to him.  Not just her physical possessions—the house, the furniture, the artwork, the clothes, the car—but a deeper set of more intimate concerns.  Her security.  Her lust.  Her dreams.  Her desire.  Her secrets.

Her self.  That, most of all and most unbearably, had been Perry's to control.

Celeste could have kept the physical possessions, which were, after all, left to her and the boys.  She chose not to.  She sold the furniture and the art, put the house on the market, donated most of her clothes, traded in his Audi Q7 for a gently used 2011 Toyota Prius.  Slowly but surely, she peeled away the material comforts that she had enjoyed as Perry's possession.  The bruises on her face faded to a dull brown, then disappeared.  And when she found herself standing in the sun-drenched living room of her lovely little apartment one Saturday afternoon, with the twins noisily dueling with their toy lightsabers upstairs in their bedroom, she breathed out a deep sigh and was surprised to find tears on her cheeks.  She had forgotten what it felt like, to breathe without constant fear hanging heavy in the air, to finally be rid of the Sword of Damocles that had dangled over her head for so long that she had forgotten that its existence was unusual.

Celeste walked to the window and squinted out over the vista of sapphire Pacific.  Seagulls cried overhead as they soared over the rocky cliffs and scrub-covered sand dunes of Del Monte Beach.  Then she turned and took in the cozy little haven that she had created for herself, completely devoid of Perry's influence.  Walls covered in small pieces of art that had once adorned her office at the firm, but which had been packed into storage for the past few years because they would have looked out-of-place on the expansive walls of her former house.  A prism cut into the shape of a heart (from Bonnie, naturally) dangling from an invisible piece of fishing wire in the west-facing window by the glass-topped dining table, fracturing the sunlight into tiny rainbows that danced over the carpeted floor.  Cookbooks and cups and dishes neatly stored in the cupboard, except for the plates on which the boys had been eating waffles earlier, which lay syrup-sticky in the sink.  Photos of her friends and family arranged on the shelves.  Truly a room of her own.  Virginia Woolf would be very proud.

Celeste sighed.  Now that she had cleaned Perry's memory out of her physical possessions, she would have to turn to the much more difficult task of scrubbing his corrosive influence from the delicate pieces of herself that were finally once again hers.  Dealing with the tangible items had been draining enough.  She had no idea where to begin with the rest.

She had just put on the kettle—a sturdy Le Creuset piece in white enamel that she had bought for herself on a whim earlier in the month—when the doorbell rang.

"Someone's at the door!" chorused the boys, dashing downstairs from their bedroom.

"I know!  Who could it be?" Celeste asked them.  As she undid the chain from the front door and turned the deadbolt, she found herself wondering the same question.  Had she told Madeline to swing by, and completely forgotten about it?  It wasn't impossible.  Or maybe Jane had finally come by to pick up those earrings that Celeste kept forgetting to bring to Otter Bay for her...?

The person that Celeste definitely didn't expect to see when she opened the door was Renata Klein, who stood beyond the welcome mat with a large bouquet of snow-white calla lilies in her arms, looking almost as startled to see Celeste as Celeste was to see her.

"It's Amabella!" rejoiced the boys, who were far more focused on the guest at their eye level.  Celeste absent-mindedly ruffled Josh's hair as he and Max darted around her legs to greet their friend.  "Come  _on_ , Amabella, the worst Sith lord is about to get here, and we need another Jedi master to help us defeat him!"

Renata laughed slightly as she watched Amabella amble off happily after the boys.

"Them, too?" she asked Celeste.

"Apparently, Ziggy's been insisting on playing  _Star Wars_  and nothing else with all of his friends, so it's all the twins will play right now," Celeste explained.  "Um, please, come in..."

Renata grinned and sidled through the door.  Celeste had never thought before about how incongruous it was, that a woman like Renata could stride through the corporate world with all of the confidence imaginable, and yet occasionally navigated personal spaces with the tentative awkwardness of her six-year-old daughter.  She watched as Renata stopped just inside the doorway and admired the living room and its gorgeous view of the seaside.  The shadow of the window frame cut a clean line of brilliant sunlight and muted grey shade halfway up the legs of Renata's white linen pants.

"It's quite a bit smaller than... well, you know," Celeste faltered.  It was stupid of her to feel that she had to couch her hospitality in self-deprecation, but she knew that Renata had attended one or two functions at the Wrights' in the past.  This apartment, lovely as it was, was certainly a downgrade from her previous lifestyle.  And Renata cared about status.  "The boys are adjusting to living in closer quarters."

"It's beautiful," Renata replied, her attention on the room.  Celeste was surprised at how such a simple sentence could express so much.  Renata's tone in public was usually carefully sculpted to flatter her listener, a trait which undoubtedly served her well in the business world. Here, though, she sounded completely sincere.  The contrast was striking.

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" she asked.  "I was about to make some."

"That would be great, thanks."  Renata held out the bouquet to Celeste.  "For you.  Consider them a housewarming gift!"

"They're lovely."  Celeste took the flowers from Renata.  "Thank you."

"I hope you don't mind my dropping in on you like this, unannounced," Renata continued as Celeste made her way into the kitchen and filled a crystal vase with water.  "I had no idea if you'd be home, but I'd been meaning to swing by and see how things were, and... well, here we are!"

"It's so thoughtful of you to stop by."  Celeste paused, the vase and its newly added calla lilies cradled between her hands.  "Renata, again, I'm so sorry about Max and what he did to Amabella last..."

"Don't."  Renata held a hand up to emphasize her point.  "It's all in the past.  And considering everything that's happened..."  Renata hesitated, at a loss for words.  "Well, she and Max seem to be getting along just fine now."

Celeste smiled and set the vase on her kitchen island, before turning off the stove.

"Please, help yourself," she added, gesturing with a nod of her head to a basket of assorted tea bags on the coffee table by the fireplace.

Renata sat down on the couch and began rifling through the options.

"How have things been?" she asked, selecting an herbal melange for herself.  "I heard through the grapevine that you've been interviewing with local firms."

"I am."  Celeste set mugs of hot water on the coffee table before both of them as she took a seat on the couch.  "I considered looking up in San Francisco, but it seemed like it would be a bit too much to ask the boys to move, when they love their school and their friends so much.  Especially given—all of the other big changes in their lives lately."

She paused with an Earl Grey tea bag in her hand, sensing Renata's critical gaze.

"And I think it's the right choice for me, too," she added firmly.  "I have so many friends here.  God, I mean, I can't imagine getting through all of this without Madeline.  If I tried to move up the coast, I think she might just follow me, dragging poor Ed and Chloe in tow."

"Mmm, yes, I'd say that tenacity is a quality that Madeline possesses in spades."  Renata crossed her arms, still skeptical.  "Well, I'm glad that you feel comfortable staying.  I really am.  And if there's anything that I can do to help you with your job search, please do let me know.  I'm sure our GC would be happy to chat, if you're interested in going in-house, and Gordon can reach out to his CLO, too.  Or, hell, even beyond that, if you need recommendations for babysitters, or for personal shoppers at Nordstrom who know their business wear, or anything else that goes with being a working professional mom..."

"I will."  Celeste smiled over the rim of her mug.  "Thank you."

The two women sipped their tea in silence for a moment.  It occurred to Celeste that she hadn't really talked to anyone about what she was about to do.  Of course, Madeline was as supportive as ever about Celeste's re-entering the workforce, but she operated on the blind faith that Celeste would pick her professional life back up like riding a bicycle.  The law changed a lot in six years.  Management at top-tier firms looked at un-retired single mothers differently than they did at fresh-faced and obligation-free associates, straight out of law school or clerkships.  And Celeste had never had to navigate dividing her time between an all-consuming career and her all-consuming love for her children.

She glanced at Renata (brushing a strand of hair back into place while setting down her tea mug) and wondered how she made it all seem so  _easy._   Back-to-back meetings, dinner functions, business trips, school performances, playdates—and still Renata looked as flawless on any given Saturday afternoon as if she had just stepped from the pages of an Ann Taylor catalogue.  Undoubtedly, Renata understood the inherent juggling act that was being a working mom.  But Celeste (sitting in her new, smaller apartment) didn't quite have it in her to ask if Renata still remembered how things were, before she became so adept at keeping all of the balls in the air at the same time.

"How's everything going on your end?" she asked instead.

"Fine," sighed Renata.  "Work is insane, as always, and I've just promised to host a big fundraiser for a Congressional candidate who's probably going to lose her primary anyway.  Oh, and I'm on the verge of suing the federal government, which ought to be a fun ride,  _not_."

"Really?"  Celeste tilted her head to one side, intrigued.  "What for?"

"Remember that dinner that you and—that you attended at our place a few months ago, to raise money for the local VA hospital?  Well, the VA refused to accept the donations and is shutting down the hospital anyway.  Initially, I thought that we should use the money to charter buses every week, for local vets to get from Monterey to the VA hospital in Sacramento, just to make a statement.  But, on reflection, it seems like a much better idea to hire a lawyer and sue the government, aggravating as that's going to be."

"Definitely," Celeste agreed.  "It's a more sustainable solution, in the long run, especially if you can get an injunction issued against the hospital's closure in the first place.  And even if that doesn't work, you probably have a due process claim against the VA officials who refused to accept the donations to keep the hospital open."

Renata stared at Celeste.

"This is going to sound crazy," she said after a long moment, "but do you, by any chance, want to do a little freelancing while you're still in the process of interviewing with firms?"

"What?"  Celeste's full attention suddenly snapped to Renata.

"Well, I mean, I certainly don't want to impose any more stress on you, but you've proven yourself to be a pretty formidable negotiator, and as long as you wouldn't feel slighted by my offering to pay you from a donation pool to which you once contributed..."

"No, it's not that at all, it's just..."  Celeste's face broke into a quavering grin.  "Yes.  Yes, I'd be incredibly happy to help, however I can."

"Are you sure?"  Renata looked concerned.  "There's a lot going on for you right now, and you can take all the time you need to think about it..."

"I don't need to think about it."  Celeste smiled down into her mug.  "Actually, I think it would be really good for me to have a project like this."

She glanced up at Renata, who still looked unconvinced.  She took a deep breath.

"When I first started dating Perry, he used to tease me for loving being a lawyer so much.  Said I thought I could save the world.  Maybe I did back then.  The point is, even now, I see the law as a means of helping other people, especially people who can't help themselves.  And knowing that I have that ability helps me maintain a positive focus on things."

Renata nodded.

"So, yes, I am sure that I want to take on this case," Celeste concluded.  "If I land a job sooner than I expect, at least I can tee it up well to hand off to someone else.  And it'll make me feel like I'm doing something really worthwhile, in the interim."

"Well, in that case..."  Renata grinned too, and held up her mug.  "Glad to have you onboard.  To helping others!"

Celeste clinked her mug against Renata's with a smile.

"To working moms," she added.

Renata chatted with Celeste long enough to finish her tea; then, with an almost apologetic excuse—"Really, I've taken up too much of your afternoon already"—she collected Amabella, who waved a shy goodbye at the twins as she exited in her mother's wake.  The boys quickly resumed their dueling, and Celeste settled back on one end of her couch, gazing out the window at the waves crashing on the shore in fluid lines of white foam.  A satisfied smile had been flirting about her mouth ever since she had agreed to take on Renata's project, and it was still present when her phone rang.

"Hey, woman," said Madeline's voice.

"Hey, yourself," replied Celeste. "What's happening?"

"Oh, nothing much.  Just got back from the farmers' market with Abigail and Bonnie.  Do you even  _know_  how many free samples you get from vendors if you walk around a farmers' market with someone as young and hot as Bonnie?  Ridiculous."

Celeste snorted softly with laughter.

"Anyway, what's new with you?" Madeline continued.

"Oh, nothing much," Celeste parroted, reaching for her laptop.

"Really?"  Celeste could just imagine the impish grin on Madeline's face.  "You say that in the voice of a cheerleader who's just been asked to prom by the quarterback.  What's going on?"

"Nothing  _nearly_  so monumental," Celeste assured her.  "I just got a small gig this morning, that's all."

"You WHAT?!"  Celeste could hear the fist pump in Madeline's voice.  "See what I told you?  I  _knew_  it wasn't going to take you very long to land your dream job at your dream firm."

"Okay, calm down," Celeste laughed.  "It's not a long-term thing; it's acting as counsel of record for a veterans' rights suit until I get hired somewhere more permanent."

"Um, excuse me if it's just because I don't speak legalese, but that sounds freaking prestigious to me," Madeline retorted.  "And you sound happier than you've sounded in, like, a month."

"Yeah," smiled Celeste, "I guess I am."

"Oh, shoot, hang on, Abigail's trying to ask me about something.  Can I call you back?"

"Anytime."

"Thanks, hon.  Congrats again!"

"Have fun peeling potatoes, or whatever you three are up to."

Celeste was still grinning as she ended the call and tossed her phone onto the couch next to her.  Her laptop's browser was now filled with open tabs on the Due Process Clause and the Department of Veterans Affairs.  She took a sip of tea, set her mug down on the coffee table, and curled her legs beneath her on the couch, ready to dive into her research.

Renata, meanwhile, sported an uncharacteristically shy little smile as she sped along the coast.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Amabella asked from the back seat.

"Hmm?"  Renata glanced in her rearview mirror and smiled.  "Yes, of course, sweetie."

"You're really quiet," Amabella pointed out.  "I wanted to make sure you're not sad."

 _My precocious little girl_ , Renata thought to herself, startled anew at the fact that she was raising such a remarkable human being.

"I'm not sad, although it's very nice of you to worry," she told her daughter.  "I'm just thinking."

"About Josh and Max's mom?"

"Yeah."  Renata's thoughts drifted back to Celeste, seated with her hands curled around her mug, refracted rainbows in her strawberry-blonde hair and the Fifth Amendment whirling around her mind.

Amabella kicked delicately at the seat in front of her with one foot.

"Max isn't mean to me anymore," she informed Renata.  "He was, but now he's not.  So if you want to be friends with his mom, that's okay with me."

Renata pulled into her driveway, braked the car, and got out so that she could help Amabella out of her car seat.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, kissing her daughter lovingly on the nose, then laughing as Amabella scrunched up her face adorably in response as she clambered out of the back seat of the car.

* * *

A few days later, Renata jumped with delighted surprise to see Celeste's name appear on the screen of her iPhone, and she answered in as normal a voice as she could muster, her heart beating a rapid staccato against her ribs.  Celeste was wondering if Renata had time to discuss the general timeframe by which Renata needed the VA brief to be written and filed.  Since Renata was rushing to a board meeting, she promised to stop by as soon as she got off work.  (After she hung up with Celeste, Renata moved two meetings to later that week, to be able to keep her promise).

When Renata arrived at Celeste's apartment, Bonnie was just leaving, having dropped off a pan of vegan chocolate chip almond butter bars.

"It's so good to see you, Renata," Bonnie said earnestly, wrapping her arms around Renata and holding her tight in a prolonged hug.  "Come by the studio whenever you feel like a free class, okay?"

"Maybe I'm crazy, but I think she's serious," Renata told Celeste as Bonnie's car pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"Absolutely," Celeste smiled.  "Come on in, I've got some soup on the stove, if you're hungry..."

And so the 15-minute meeting that Renata had anticipated somehow turned into an hour of sitting at Celeste's glass-topped table over dinner and Chardonnay, the sun lowering towards the horizon and the twins occasionally dashing in and out of the room to ask questions or look for errant toys.  Renata still felt a little overwhelmed in Celeste's presence, but after the wine loosened her up, she found herself amazed at how easily conversation flowed.  Celeste, clad in a flowing floral-print dress, remained impossibly poised and sophisticated as she sliced baguette and ladled soup, but tonight she revealed a wry sense of humor as she commented drily on recent movies and current politics.  Twice, Renata almost choked on her soup when her host made some cutting remark that startled her into laughter.  She was almost sorry when Celeste finally steered the topic of conversation towards the VA.

"I was thinking within the next two or three weeks, if that's even possible," Renata explained.  "It sounds like the hospital is slated to close down at the end of next month, so the sooner, the better."

"Right."  Celeste exhaled, and Renata could almost hear the lawyer's mind whirring into action.  "Good to know.  I'm hoping to dig a little deeper into statistical research that could help fill things out, but I think that I should be able to get that done in a week or so.  Do you want to check in then?"

"Let me see when I'm free."  Renata pulled her phone from her purse and scowled as she checked her calendar.  "Actually, by some minor miracle, my schedule is clear exactly this time next week, so I'll add right in here, 'Meeting with Celeste'..."

"I'm always amazed at everything that you do, Renata," Celeste ventured as Renata saved the event and stuffed her phone back into her purse.  "All of your boards, all of your projects, on top of being a CEO and a parent.  I like to believe that once I have more of a work routine set up, I'll be able to find time to do the same, but I honestly just can't imagine..."

"You certainly  _could_  figure out how to manage it all," Renata reassured her.  "It's more a matter of whether you  _want_  to.  There are days when I really do regret taking on so much, but I can't seem to help it.  It's like by now I'm programmed to seek out new and ever-more-challenging opportunities.  Almost like I'm afraid I'll be left with nothing, if I don't strive to do everything.  Bad habit left over from business school, I guess."

"Oh?"

"Well, I'm sure it's the same in the legal world.  Opportunities don't just fall into people's laps unless they're already extremely rich or extremely well-connected.  If you're an average person, and you want something, you have to go work your ass off for it."  Renata smiled grimly.  "You know, when I graduated, I emailed the hiring managers for thirty-seven companies in Silicon Valley.  Maybe only five or six ever responded, on my eight or ninth time emailing them.  And then it was always a struggle to make it clear to management when I wanted a promotion—you know, getting the balance right between trying not to seem too ambitious, while also reminding them why I was the best candidate.  And that usually meant taking on more and more work, to prove to them that I could handle it all, and do it well.  The problem is, even though I've 'made it' now, I still feel like I have to prove myself constantly."

Renata suddenly realized that she was babbling, and clamped her mouth shut, cursing every drop of wine that had loosened her tongue.

"I can see that," Celeste agreed.  "Although, frankly, if I were to do the same thing, I think it would be more to fill the empty spaces.  I mean, for the moment, the boys take up all of my time, but when they're older and have activities to keep them occupied after school, it'll be good for me to have things to distract me from getting too mired in my thoughts after work."

She glanced at Renata, suddenly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said.  "Here I ask you over with a question about business, and instead..."

"Don't apologize," Renata replied with quiet intensity.  "Never apologize, Celeste, especially for that."

Celeste nodded, a few faded rainbows from the prism in her window fluttering over the surface of her hair in the soft late afternoon light.

"Look," Renata added, "I think that once you have a regular work schedule to add some structure to your life, things will feel just fine.  And, if between parenting and work, you still feel like you have too much time to get mired in your thoughts, just let me know, and I'll enlist you for a dozen other projects and boards and events that will make you absolutely hate me within about a week."

"Deal, minus the part about hating you," Celeste promised.  "And thank you."

She paused.

"I can't really talk about this kind of thing with most of my friends," she confessed.  "Given that Madeline and Jane and Bonnie have a lot of control over their own work schedules, and I've grown apart from my old friends from when I was still practicing.  It means a lot to me, to see that you can be so successful in the sort of time-regimented career that you have, and still be such a good mom."

"Well, thanks."  Renata hoped that she wasn't blushing too much, but reasoned that she could always blame the wine, if so.  "I try."

"And you succeed."

Celeste smiled in a manner that made warmth radiate from Renata's core to the tips of her fingers and toes.  Unbelievable, that a being like Celeste would even invite Renata into her home, let alone say that she actively  _admired_  anything about a mere mortal like Renata.

The mere mortal in question cleared her throat.

"Speaking of which, I'd better get going, so that I can make it home before bedtime."

"Of course," said Celeste.  "But see you next week?"

"Yeah." Renata sighed.  "Unless I go to one of Bonnie's classes between now and then, in which case I may be bedridden for the next month from unreasonable physical exertion."

Celeste laughed appreciatively, and Renata drove away from Del Monte Beach feeling unduly pleased with life.

* * *

In retrospect, Celeste should have known that going to speak with a mental health expert at the VA hospital would have exactly the effect that it did.  From the moment she entered the hospital's lobby, some terrifying and indescribable unease had gripped her, as if she knew that she was tiptoeing amidst dragons that should not be woken.  Each steady step that she took on the linoleum floor, beneath the harshness of the fluorescent lights overhead, sounded a warning that she did her utmost to ignore.

"Dr. Lee?" she asked, knocking on the frame of the open office door.

Dr. Timothy Lee glanced up from the desk where he was reviewing a series of thick manila files.

"Celeste Wright, I presume?" he responded, standing and offering a hand.  "Please, take a seat."

"Sorry to disturb you, when you clearly have so much work..."

"Oh, not at all," said the doctor, shaking his head firmly as he closed his files and stacked them to the side of his desk.  "Honestly, we were all so glad to hear from Renata that you were planning to ask the court for this injunction.  It would be incredibly difficult for us to watch the hospital close, when there are so many people here who need us.  I'm happy to do whatever I can to help."

Celeste pulled out a legal notepad and placed it on the desk in front of her.

"I'm pulling together the best legal case that I can, of course," she explained, "but I also want to paint an emotional narrative for the court.  Can you tell me as much as you can about the patients that you treat here?  Not names or any other identifying information, needless to say, but any specifics that you feel would be appropriate to share?"

"Of course," Dr. Lee nodded.  "Well, how much time do you have?  My area of expertise is veterans' mental health—Renata's area of interest, which is how she knows me—but if you want, I can just walk you briefly through all of the types of treatments that we provide, one by one..."

At first, it was fine.  Agent Orange exposure, polytrauma, infectious diseases, radiation exposure, traumatic brain injuries, amputations and prosthetics, rehabilitation—Celeste took careful notes on each type of condition and the treatments provided by the hospital, as well as statistics for the number of veterans served in each category and, where available, any anecdotal evidence that the doctor was authorized to share.  As she listened, with the occasional nod, Celeste took several deep breaths.  This was going well.  This was exactly how she had hoped that this afternoon would go.

"And, last but not least, we treat mental health conditions," Dr. Lee continued.  "Unsurprisingly, PTSD impacts a number of our patients who have seen combat or experienced sexual assault while deployed."

Celeste's pen slowed halfway through a sentence, but she willed herself to keep writing.

"Trauma victims tend to experience four major types of symptoms.  Avoidance and re-experiencing are fairly self-explanatory; patients either avoid triggers for their trauma, or are caught in an inescapable cycle of reliving the events.  Then there's arousal, which is a hypersensitivity that can result in angry outbursts or heightened reactions.  And lastly, there are negative changes in beliefs and feelings, which can lead to depression and hopelessness, as well as issues like substance abuse, withdrawal from friends, reckless behavior, and sometimes suicide.  Many trauma victims experience at least some of these symptoms immediately following the traumatic event, along with a general feeling of not being safe in the world.  But PTSD is essentially a prolonged state of experiencing such symptoms.  Our therapists are trained to help patients suffering from PTSD learn to acknowledge their trauma without becoming trapped in reliving it, and to manage their emotions so that they are neither too violent and self-destructive, nor too repressed and self-isolating."

Celeste was trying to focus on taking down everything that the doctor was saying, but memories kept edging their way into the forefront of her mind: Perry, with his hands around her neck; Perry, with his body pressing hers against the slick tiles of the shower wall; Perry, with a foot raised to kick her in the ribs yet again; Perry, leaning over her shoulder to nuzzle his nose against her neck; Perry, chasing the boys around the kitchen; Perry, slamming Celeste up against a cabinet with his fingers digging into her arms; Perry, making love to her on the kitchen counter like a hungry animal; Perry, pressing her face into a couch pillow; Perry, bloodied and lifeless at the foot of the stairs, his eyes gazing emptily upwards...

"Ms. Wright?"

Celeste looked up, her breathing quick and shallow.  Dr. Lee was eyeing her with concern.

"I'm so sorry," Celeste managed to smile.  "I think I'm having a dizzy spell.  Would you mind if I got some fresh air?"

"I think that that's probably a good idea."  Dr. Lee pointed down the hallway.  "There's an exit to a courtyard right down there, if you want to take a few moments."

"Thank you," breathed Celeste, and she rose to her feet, walked slowly out of the office, and kept walking all the way back to her car.  When she got there, she sat down in the driver's seat, closed the door of the car, and slumped over the steering wheel.  Then she stuffed a hand between her teeth to keep herself from screaming in anguish.

Celeste wrote Dr. Lee an email of apology from home, explaining that she had been called away unexpectedly but that she greatly appreciated his help and would contact him if she had any more questions.  She knew that she hadn't fooled him, knew that he had seen straight through her flight from the hospital, but she didn't know what else she could do.  She had intended to come home and try to finish the last section of the brief that she was supposed to be writing.  Instead, she texted Madeline to ask if she wouldn't mind keeping the boys for a little longer, and lay on her bed watching the fading sunlight advance across the modest expanse of her ceiling, until Renata rang the doorbell.

 _Damn it_ , thought Celeste, who had forgotten to text Renata and ask if they could reschedule.  When the doorbell continued to ring, she forced herself to roll off the edge of her bed.

"Hey, I'm so sorry I'm late, this conference call ran much longer than I—"  Renata's voice broke off as soon as she saw Celeste.  "Oh my god, Celeste."

Celeste smiled wanly, her eyes downcast as she leaned against the doorframe of her apartment.  On instinct, she wrapped her arms protectively around herself, against the outside world.

"Do you want me to leave?" Renata asked, slightly panicked.

Celeste shook her head almost imperceptibly, then raised her face towards Renata, her eyes glossy with tears.

"Please stay," she said quietly, and stepped back so that Renata could enter.

Renata entered Celeste's apartment tentatively, keenly aware of how quiet it felt.

"The boys...?"

"At Madeline's."  Celeste shut the door and leaned back against it.  "I didn't want them to see me like this.  I wanted—I wanted to make sure that I pulled myself together before I picked them up."

Celeste raised her hands to her face to cover her tears.  Renata, stricken, stepped forward and gently guided Celeste to the couch.

"Can I get you some water, or anything?" she asked Celeste awkwardly.

"No, no thank you," sniffed Celeste, seizing a tissue from a box on the coffee table and dabbing at her eyes.

Renata sat down next to her, one hand anxiously kneading the other in her lap.

"I meant to have the brief fully drafted for you by tonight," Celeste choked.  "I'm so close to being finished, and I was so hoping to be able to give you something presentable to review.  I'm really, really sorry, Renata..."

"It doesn't matter," Renata insisted.  "I know you'll get everything done.  It doesn't have to be tonight.  Don't get angry with yourself over it."

"I went to the VA hospital today, to talk to the doctor whose contact info you gave me.  He started telling me about the types of treatments that they offer there, and... and something just snapped."  Celeste shrugged helplessly.  "He was describing PTSD, and all of these memories started flooding back.  And I had to wonder, how long is all of this going to last?  How long will it be before I can feel truly safe and happy again?"

"Oh, Celeste..."

Renata made a gesture as if to seize Celeste by the hand, but she seemed to check herself at the last moment, and her own hands remained coiled tensely in her lap.  Celeste turned her head and gazed out of the window.  The fading sun had set the horizon ablaze in oranges and magentas, over the surface of the dark grey ocean.

"Somehow, irrationally, I miss him.  I know that sounds crazy, I truly do.  Especially given that I've felt safer and less afraid these past few weeks than I have in years.  But when you share a life with someone who wants you and needs you and worships you and makes you feel so alive, and he suddenly disappears...  I feel so alone, sometimes.  Half of the time, when I dream about him, I wake up and just  _sob_  because he's not there beside me.  And the other half of the time, I wake up and sob with relief that he's gone."

Celeste dabbed at her eyes with the tissue again.  Renata ventured to put a hand on Celeste's shoulder, and before she knew it, her arms were wrapped around Celeste.

"Honey, you don't sound crazy, of course you don't," Renata told her in a fierce, low voice, her cheek leaning against Celeste's hair.  "You are allowed to process this exactly the way that you need to, for as long as you need to.  And if you need me to take this stupid brief off your plate..."

"No!"  Celeste pulled away slightly so that she could turn towards Renata.  "This project has given me so much, Renata, you can't imagine.  It's brought me back to life just a little bit more, the same way that meeting with the mayor's office did.  It's reminded me that I have something worth giving to the world professionally.  Even when I feel so incredibly powerless in so many ways, it's made me feel like I can be strong like you."

A small laugh escaped from Renata.

"Celeste Wright, you are without a doubt one of the strongest, most resilient people I've ever met," she said frankly.  "I just wish that I could do something to make you understand exactly how incredible you are."

Celeste—tear-streaked and exhausted, and yet still so vibrant and beautiful—smiled almost bashfully.  Her face was only inches from Renata's, and she leaned forward tentatively, then raised her blue eyes to meet Renata's, her expression simultaneously intense and so vulnerable.  And Renata, without hesitation, brushed a strand of strawberry-blonde hair from Celeste's damp cheek and then kissed her, as gentle and as powerful as the waves breaking on the beach outside.

* * *

Bonnie was glad that she managed to catch Renata after class ended.  Renata had seemed distracted the entire hour, going through the motions but not really putting her full attention or intention into any of them.  Now, she was standing outside the studio, checking something on her cell phone.

"Renata?"

Renata's head jerked upwards.

"Oh!  Hi!"  She stuffed her cell phone into her purse and snapped a smile onto her face.  "Great class, Bonnie.  Thank you so much for inviting me; I'll definitely be back."

Bonnie smiled in return.

"Do you want to sit down and have a cup of tea with me, before you head off?" she asked.  "It won't take long, I promise."

Renata hovered indecisively for a moment, but then her affixed smile broadened.

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you!"

Bonnie led Renata into the kitchenette behind the studios, where Renata seated herself at the table while Bonnie poured them both steaming mugs of herbal tea.  She set one before Renata, then lowered herself into the chair opposite, and breathed in the rich aromas of licorice and peppermint and echinacea as the steam billowed around her face.

"So, what's wrong?"

Renata blinked at her.

"Nothing's wrong," she insisted with a small laugh.

Bonnie merely regarded Renata coolly over the brim of her mug.

"You just seemed very distracted all through class, and not with the kind of businesslike energy that you usually give off," she observed.  "So I assumed that something was bothering you, an issue that you weren't used to handling.  And I thought I'd ask if I could help."

Renata's smile flickered.  She took a small sip of tea, then stared down into her mug.

"I kissed Celeste," she confessed.

Bonnie waited for more.

"I kissed Celeste, and I have no idea if I should tell Gordon," Renata clarified.  She looked back up at Bonnie, her gaze both defensive and unusually shy.  "Please don't tell anyone."

"Of course not."  Bonnie sipped her own tea.  "Why did you do it?"

Renata appreciated that Bonnie's tone was genuinely curious, and not accusatory.

"If only I knew."  For a moment, Renata wondered why the hell she was telling Bonnie Carlson about this, of all people, but the fact was that she trusted Bonnie and her calming, open-minded aura.  (A millisecond later, she also remembered that, after all, she was keeping a much bigger secret for Bonnie.)  "She was really hurting, and I just... I don't know.  I wanted to help her.  I wanted to show her that she wasn't alone.  To remind her how much people care about her.  Or, at least, how much I care."

"Do you regret it?" Bonnie asked.

"Yes."  Renata shook her head.  "I mean, no, I don't really, except that... this kind of changes everything, doesn't it?  I've cheated on my husband."

"Have you, though?" Bonnie asked.  "It was just a kiss, right?"

" _Of course it was just a kiss!_ "  Renata suddenly realized how loudly she had spoken, and her eyes shot nervously towards the doorway of the kitchenette to make sure she hadn't been overheard.  "Of course it was."

"Oh.  Well."  Bonnie raised and lowered a shoulder.  "I wouldn't say it was necessarily cheating, then.  Just because you kissed Celeste doesn't mean that you love her in the same way that you love Gordon."

Renata furrowed her brow.

"Sorry?"

"Let's take a step back," Bonnie recommended.  "Tell me how you feel about Celeste."

Renata's mouth opened and closed once or twice while she tried to find the right words.

"I can't stop thinking about her," she said finally.  "I've always wanted to be someone like her, someone who can be smart and sexy and elegant and so damn likable, all at once.  Whenever I'm around her, I feel nervous.  Like if I do something stupid, she'll hate me forever.  And I just want her to think that I'm as wonderful as I think that she is."

Renata blew a puff of air out of one corner of her mouth in frustration.  Bonnie suppressed a grin.

"And?  That all means that you're in love with Celeste?"

"Doesn't it?"  Renata shrugged helplessly.  "I've never felt this way about a woman before.  I've been  _jealous_  of women before.  I've  _admired_  other women before.  This?  This feels completely different.  Like I want to stay close to her forever, and to make sure that no one can ever hurt her again, and to do anything that will make her happy.  And I want to share secrets with her, and to make her realize that I think she's someone really special.  To want all of that—isn't that the very definition of love?"

"Sure," Bonnie answered evenly.  "But love isn't necessarily romantic or sexual.  Haven't you ever felt that way about a friend before, especially one you've only just met and don't know that well?"

Renata blinked at her.

"Of course not.  Do most people feel this strongly about their friends?"

"Depends on the person.  Depends on the friend.  Depends on how much you're willing to trust your friends with the things that scare you most."

Renata was about to emphatically reply that there was no way that that was true, but she took a second longer to think about it.  Her professional world was dominated by men, and even the female business associates that she considered friends weren't the type with whom she would ever share anything too intensely personal.  Among the Otter Bay moms, there was always Harper, but Harper simpered around Renata for reasons of status, and the two women only ever talked about their gifted children, not about the books they were reading, or the TV shows they were watching, or their regrets, or their fears, or their dreams.  Quite honestly, up until the afternoon that Jane Chapman had knocked on Renata's door to apologize for poking her in the eye, Renata had never really discussed the vulnerable aspects of her life with any of the women that she currently knew.  Even when she went to the occasional happy hour or dinner with her so-called "girlfriends," Renata always felt that she had to put on a front, and only show off the most impressive and accomplished and self-assured side of herself.  What had happened to the real girlfriends that she had had in college, the ones who she trusted would love her even at her goofiest and weakest and most scared?  When, before these past few weeks, was the last time that she had dared to ask  _anyone_  in Monterey besides Gordon to appreciate her for being herself, rather than for her professional achievements or for her wonderful daughter?

"Frankly, I don't know if I can say that I have many friends, in the first place," she confessed quietly to Bonnie.  "I tell Gordon about my insecurities and my anxieties.  And I guess I've talked about some of those same insecurities with Jane, and with Celeste, and now with you.  But that still doesn't explain why it feels so  _different_  to even just be around Celeste."

"Everyone gets friend crushes," Bonnie laughed.  "And Celeste is more reserved than the rest of us, I think.  Give your relationship time, that's all.  I think you'll stop feeling so intimidated by her soon enough."

"And if I don't?"  Renata bit her lip.  "Jesus.  I should just confess everything to Gordon now, before the guilt becomes overwhelming."

"If it would make you feel better, go for it."  Bonnie drained the rest of her tea.  "Just make sure you're not going to hurt him unnecessarily.  If you honestly feel like you've cheated on him emotionally, then that's one thing.  But if you're just not sure right now how to classify the kind of love that you feel for Celeste, I would wait.  You're allowed to love your friends intensely, Renata.  Many people do.  And there's a wide spectrum between platonic fondness and romantic desire.  Just because you're not used to the areas in between, doesn't mean that you need to feel guilty if you're feeling anything  _other_  than platonic fondness."

That all made a certain amount of sense, Renata reasoned as she drove home from Bonnie's studio.  Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that her attraction to Celeste might run deeper than just admiration, might lean across the border into desire.  But even if that were the case, she didn't  _think_  that the kiss that she had given Celeste was driven by anything lustful.  And that meant that it wasn't cheating, and there was no reason to even mention the kiss to her husband in the first place.  Right?

Gordon was lounging on the couch in the living room, reading the news on his phone, when Renata came down the stairs.

"Well, you look sexy as hell like that," he said, glancing at Renata in her sweaty workout clothes.  "How was Bonnie's class?"

"Oh, fine.  Actually, it was really good."

Renata's first impulse was to rush through the living room and get away from the whole situation, but something kept her from doing so.  She took her time grabbing a bottle of cold water from the mini-fridge behind the bar, and then she wandered slowly back towards the couch.  Gordon had gone back to the news and was scowling slightly as he scrolled through an article.  He was so incredibly different from Celeste, and Renata hated herself for even thinking to compare the two.

"Hey."  Renata sat down on the couch, a cautious distance away.  "Can I tell you something?"

Gordon looked up at her, clearly worried by the tone of Renata's voice.

"Of course," he said, placing his phone facedown on the coffee table.  "Is everything okay?"

Renata could have backed out then and there, but one look at the concern on Gordon's face, and she couldn't.  She had worked damn hard to make Gordon hers, after all.  When Renata first met Gordon, and realized that she didn't entirely hate the way that he eyed her as she walked by on stiletto heels, she was the one who sashayed her way up to his desk one morning and asked if he wanted to grab coffee that afternoon.  When they had been living in the same penthouse together for three years, she was the one who finally sat Gordon down one evening and asked point-blank if he had any intentions of proposing to her eventually.  (And when she woke up one morning in her early forties, spent an hour unexpectedly sobbing over the fact that she didn't have a child and had only just recognized that she desperately wanted one, and scheduled an appointment with an ob/gyn before she had even had a chance to consult Gordon that evening, he had agreed wholeheartedly with Renata's aspirations, once he had gotten over his initial surprise.)

Whatever Renata felt about Celeste, she still loved Gordon.  And she wouldn't let any lies—big or little—tarnish the life they had together.

"I kissed Celeste Wright," she told him.  "I'm not sure why.  But I thought I owed you the truth about the fact that it happened."

Gordon looked as confused and hurt as Renata had feared.  After a moment, he shifted into a more stable seated position, clasped his hands with his elbows on his knees, and cleared his throat.

"Is this your way of telling me that it's over between us?" he asked quietly.

"What—no!  Jesus, Gordon, of course not!"  Renata's jaw had dropped open slightly.  "I'm telling you because I've been feeling guilty as hell about it.  And because I know I won't be able to forgive myself for doing something so idiotic unless you forgive me first.  And because I really, really love you, and I don't want a stupid secret like this to wedge itself between us."

Gordon bowed his head towards his hands and exhaled slowly.

"Oh, for god's sake, Gordon, say  _something_ ," Renata burst out.

Gordon's shoulders started shaking slightly.

"You are really something else, Renata," he said, raising his head with a slightly pained laugh.  "How is it that I just happened to marry the one woman who has the balls to do what every man in Monterey has only dreamed of doing?"

"It wasn't anything like that," Renata insisted.  "It was just one kiss.  A stupid impulse on my part, in an attempt to comfort an upset friend.  As I've recently learned, I'm not that great at expressing anything within the grey area between platonic fondness and romantic desire, and I did it wrong."

"Really."

"I wouldn't have told you, if I didn't feel so goddamn awful about it."  Renata dared to place a hand on Gordon's leg, and thankfully, he didn't pull away.  "I'm not having an affair with Celeste.  I made a stupid mistake, and maybe I shouldn't even have said anything, but I didn't want to have anything to hide from you.  You're my sounding board, Gordon, for all of my doubts and fears.  I never want there to be anything that I can't tell you."

Gordon sighed, and glanced at Renata's hand on his leg.  Then he raised his eyes to hers.

"I appreciate that," he said softly.  "And, as I said, it's not like I don't understand the impulse."  He cleared his throat again.  "So this means that you're definitely not leaving me?"

Renata scooted sideways on the couch and kissed Gordon.

"Never," she promised.

"Even though Celeste Wright is incredibly hot and almost certainly fantastic in bed?"

Renata rammed Gordon playfully with her shoulder.

"You said that, not me."

"I'm just saying, no person in their right mind would turn that down.  I almost feel like I should give you a free pass."

Renata stared at him.

"You really mean it?"

"Yeah."  Gordon shrugged, quirking a smile at Renata.  "I've lived with you long enough to know not to get in your way when you clearly want something.  As long as I'm not going to lose you, and it makes you happy, then I don't see why it should matter to me."

Renata kissed him again, practically radiating elation and relief.  Thank god she had married a man who understood her, in spite of all of her prickly moments and stubborn demands.

"Keep on making me this happy, and I guarantee you'll be stuck with me forever," she teased him, but she meant it.  After all, a skydiver can't enjoy the thrill of a free fall without also having a parachute.

"Well, it's not like I don't expect anything in return," Gordon added mischievously.  "If you get permission to kiss another beautiful woman, then I think that I should automatically get permission to imagine whatever I want happening between the two of you, right?"

Renata picked up a couch cushion and walloped Gordon with it, laughing.  He grabbed another cushion and swatted back, and then Renata tackled him to the couch.

"Amabella's ballet class doesn't end for another twenty minutes, and it'll take Juliette an additional fifteen minutes to drive her home," she told Gordon, unbuttoning his shirt.  "You have that long to make your decision about whether I get that free pass with Celeste Wright—if you can even still think straight, by the time I'm done with you."

* * *

Celeste had proofread the finished brief twice by the time Renata arrived, but she still felt incredibly nervous when she answered her door.

"Hey," she said, smiling hesitantly.

"Hey," Renata replied, equally hesitant.  "You look well."

"Loads better than the last time you came by, at any rate."  Celeste smiled down at Amabella, who was clutching her mother's hand.  "Hi, Amabella."

Amabella answered with a small "Hi" and partially hid behind Renata's legs.

"No need to be shy, sweetie," Renata told her.  "Are the boys not around?" she added to Celeste.

"They're in their room."  Celeste knelt down so that she could address Amabella at eye level.  "Do you wanna go find Max and Josh with me?"

Amabella nodded, then slowly emerged from behind Renata to go find her friends with Celeste.  Renata, meanwhile, wandered into the living room, where she stood watching the waves crash on the beach through the window, until Celeste came back downstairs.

"What a beautiful day," Renata commented, as Celeste joined her at the window.

"You can get a better view from the balcony," she offered.  "Oh, but wait, before I show you, here..."

Celeste gestured to the finalized brief on the glass-topped table, printed and stapled.  She remained standing, leaning up against the fireplace anxiously, while Renata sat down and began skimming through the document.  When she reached the end, Renata looked up with a broad smile.  There were rainbows dancing in Celeste's hair again.

"Beautiful," Renata said.  "Absolutely perfect."

"If there's anything that you want changed..."

"You're the lawyer, Celeste," Renata reminded her.  "And I trust your judgment completely."

Celeste lowered her eyes modestly.

"Well, thank you."

"Thank  _you_ ," Renata corrected her.

After a moment, Celeste took a hesitant step towards the door.

"If you did want to see the balcony?"

The two women emerged blinking into the sunlight.  The occasional gust of wind blew sharply across the dunes, and Renata's hair flew wildly about her face.  Laughing, she pulled it back behind her ears, and leaned on the bannister of the balcony next to Celeste, staring out towards the Pacific.

"How's the job search going, by the way?" she asked.

"I've got an offer or two." Celeste shrugged.  "Both firms seem like really good options.  I've been putting off on making a decision until this brief is officially filed, but I'll have to choose soon."

"Both here in Monterey?"

"Of course."

"Well."  Renata grinned.  "Congratulations!  If your work for them is anything like what I was just reading back in there, either would be extremely lucky to have you.  We'll have to celebrate sometime."

"Thank you."  Celeste hesitated.  "I'd love to stay on the VA case, if you wouldn't mind.  It might be a slightly bumpy adjustment for me, settling back into firm life, but if you don't mind putting up with any associated fits and starts, I'd be thrilled to keep working on it, pro bono."

"By all means," Renata replied.  "And don't even worry about the fits and starts.  They happen in any job."

"I know, but you have deadlines, and I don't want you to be unnecessarily anxious about things, and..."

"And I know you'll meet all of the deadlines, so there's no reason for me to be anxious," Renata shrugged.

Celeste glanced at her.

"I appreciate how much confidence you have in me."

"You're a talented woman, Celeste.  If you start forgetting that you are, I'll be happy to remind you."

"Thank you," Celeste laughed, embarrassed.

"Not at all.  After all, what are friends for?"

A seagull glided low overhead, and for a moment, both women followed its progress across the windswept beach.

"Renata, about the other night, I..."

"Yes?"  Renata glanced at Celeste warily.

"I appreciated it," said Celeste quietly.  "I really did.  You make me feel so  _valued,_  in every sense, and it's been a long time since I've felt valued without also feeling afraid.  But it wasn’t right of me to have wanted that from you, and I shouldn't have put you in that position..."

"It's fine, Celeste.  I talked to Gordon about it, and he didn't mind.  Doesn't mind," Renata corrected herself.   _Doesn't mind if I love you the way that I want to love you—the way that I was afraid to admit that I loved you, until I knew that I could without hurting anyone._

Celeste's jaw had dropped slightly, but she quickly recovered her composure.

"Well, he's clearly a remarkably secure man, not to be violently jealous.  You're lucky."  Celeste's gaze returned to the ocean.  "I’m not sure what I want right now, Renata.  I need some time to figure that out.  I think it’s going to take a while for me to heal from everything that’s happened, and I can't make any promises or commitments before I do.”

"I understand.  And, like I said, you need to do what feels right for you.  Just let me know if there's anything that I can do to help."

"I will.  Thank you."

"You're really doing okay?"

"Much better, generally."  Celeste still had her bad moments, but she knew that Renata understood that without her having to spell it out.  "If things start sliding downhill, I'll let somebody know."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Renata placed a protective hand on Celeste's shoulder and let it simply rest there for a moment, a secure reminder of her presence, because reaching out and being there for Celeste felt so incredibly  _right_  at this moment.  And if that was all that Celeste wanted or needed for now, then it was enough.

"Are you free for the rest of the afternoon?" Renata asked, pulling her arm back to the bannister.

"So far as I know.  Why?"

"Let's celebrate today," Renata said impulsively.  "Your firm job, and your gorgeous brief, and everything else.  Why wait?  Let's call Jane and Bonnie and Madeline, and see if they can't bring their kids and a picnic down to the beach for a few hours."

Celeste turned to Renata, her smile radiant.

"You really mean it?  Even Madeline?"

"Even Madeline," Renata said.  "We're going to become actual friends, at some point, so we might as well start now."

Celeste took Renata's hand, squeezed it gently, and kissed her on the cheek.  She lingered a few inches away from Renata, hesitant, and then pressed her mouth to Renata's, gently exploring the softness of the other woman's lips as her hands moved to Renata's shoulders.  Renata cradled Celeste's face in her own hands, her fingers tangling in Celeste's beautiful hair, which seemed to shimmer with rainbows of its own in the sunlight.  Finally, Celeste drew back, her cheeks glowing pink, and she walked past Renata to retreat into the shelter of her home.  Renata inhaled a deep breath of salty breeze, feeling as if the combination of sea air and hope that filled her might lift her from the balcony and allow her to soar with the seagulls above the waves.  But she managed to remain earthbound, and instead followed Celeste back inside, closing the door behind her.

Somehow, miraculously, the others were free.  They arrived two by two on the highway shoulder by the descent to Garrapata State Park: Jane and Ziggy, Bonnie and Skye, Madeline and Chloe.  Ziggy leaped out of Jane's car as soon as his door was open, ran down the highway shoulder shouting, "AMABELLA!" and joined his friend as the two raced down the path to the beach, shooting at invisible Stormtroopers with imaginary blasters ( _pew, pew!_ ).  Skye quietly meandered up to Josh and showed him the ladybug that had landed on her arm as she and Bonnie were leaving the house.  And Chloe strutted forth like a princess, immediately ordering Max to fetch her towel from the back of Madeline's car.

Jane, for her part, greeted both Celeste and Renata with hugs.  Bonnie did the same when she arrived.  And Madeline, after exclaiming loudly at Celeste that she was just so damn proud about everything, finally turned to Renata.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi Madeline," Renata replied awkwardly.  This was the first time that they had really spoken since Trivia Night, not counting polite exchanges at Perry's funeral.  "Thanks so much for being willing to come out here, on short notice."

"Anything for Celeste," Madeline replied passionately.  She hesitated.  "I was really glad to get your call, actually.  I'd... been meaning to get in touch."

"Yeah.  Same."

Behind Madeline's head, Jane gave Renata a thumbs-up as she followed Ziggy and Amabella down the path.

"I meant what I said at Trivia Night, Renata," Madeline continued.  "I may have been drunk out of my mind when I said it, but I meant it.  It takes a lot of guts to apologize the way you did to Jane.  And I really am sorry for every shitty thing I've done to you over the past few months."

"The feeling's mutual.  And I don't blame you.  You were just trying to protect Jane and Ziggy."

"Like you were just trying to protect Amabella."

Renata smiled.

"You know, Jane told me a few weeks ago that we had a lot in common.  She also speculated that the fact that we're similar is what, um, sparked a lot of the tension that characterized the past few months."

"Definitely," Madeline snorted.  "I mean, look at the others.  Celeste negotiates and makes persuasive arguments for a living.  Bonnie helps people find their inner peace.  Jane reconciles things all day long.  Of this group, the two of us are the crazies who really get our kicks from digging in and attempting to raise hell from our respective trenches."

"Well, thankfully, I think we're in the same trench now, protecting the same people."

"Yeah," Madeline agreed quietly, her gaze fixed on the figures retreating through the dunes down the path towards the beach.  Renata suspected that Madeline was also remembering the events of Trivia Night, the way that they both sprang into action to avenge the wrongs that Perry had done to Celeste and to Jane.  "Well, there's something to be said for everything that's happened.  At this rate, if anyone so much as  _thinks_  about laying a finger on any of our friends, or any of our kids, I have zero doubt that together, we'll be able to kick their ass super easily."

The two women shared a conspiratorial smile.  And then they began to walk towards the others—their friends and their kids—who were already descending down the cliffside path towards the beach.

Renata Klein was not good at waiting, and she had wasted so much of her life doing just that.  Her existence had been one continuous sequence of tomorrows, always striving for what lay ahead, growing increasingly irritated that perfection seemed always just beyond the reach of her fingertips.  But tomorrow could not matter nearly as much as the waves crashing against the rocky coastline, and the seagulls crying overhead, and the wind whipping a fine spray of water across footprints left in the wet sand.  Tomorrow could not matter nearly as much as the present reality of the six beautiful children shouting at each other along the shore, or the easy closeness of the four women reclining in the sunshine around her.  Things could change in a heartbeat, Renata knew.  The inherent mutability of all of their lives was reflected in how much seemed fresh and unexplored and filled with possibility at this moment in time—Jane rediscovering how to be desired, Celeste finding her confidence again, Renata learning what it meant to trust and love other women.

And so, for one carefree afternoon, Renata chose not to worry about the future, or how she was being perceived by the other moms around her, or anything else beyond this small stretch of coast.  The other women laughed and chased after their children, and Renata followed, coming to stand behind Celeste with her hand gently caressing the lawyer's shoulder.  In a moment like this, she could afford to relinquish control and ego and self-reliance and ambition, could afford not to grasp for the things that she didn't already have.  Renata had her friends.  And it was enough.


End file.
